


Bloom for You

by Gal



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Pining, Possible Character Death, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2020-10-13 06:00:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20577632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gal/pseuds/Gal
Summary: “What?” Theo interrupted. “Get rid of it?”“Well, it’s not ideal, but neither is dying.” And Parrish doesn’t mean to sound flippant. He is trying to be realistic, and he figures sympathy isn’t what Theo is looking for.“No, it’s not ideal, but is it much better?”





	1. Lily White and Poppy Red

He felt it as soon as he saw him again, and looking back, he does not know when it started.

It must have started before and he just didn’t notice.

Or maybe… did it start because he was the one who released him?

Could it really be considered a release if he was still under constant surveillance? _Oh god… is it some kind of weird Stockholm Syndrome?_

.

.

.

It starts as a tickle in the back of his throat, a minor annoyance that he can’t seem to get rid of.

It’s not all that noticeable at first. Yeah, his breathing is a little shorter and he is tired, but that’s to be expected. He just came back from hell, and they are fighting literal tooth and nail to survive the Hunt. It was normal to be a little winded. It didn’t seem like anything he needed to worry about.

At first.

It starts to be something he can’t ignore at the hospital.

One of the ghost riders is choking him. He’s vision is swimming, and he’s clawing at the hands at his throat, but not as strongly as he might have before.

Its hands are cold. Not as cold as hers, but cold enough to send him back there, back to her taunting and playing with him. The cold and the hospital is too much. They make him want to give in because _what’s the point?_ They would find a way to send him back soon anyhow. Might as well speed up the process.

_Even though it feels kind of cheap to be going back to hell so soon. _

Then all the sudden the hands are off of him. He can breathe, and Liam is walking towards him after finishing off both of their adversaries.

The twinge in the back of his throat becomes more intense as he reaches out his fist to connect with Liam’s. Again, he doesn't think much of it. He was just choked, for Christ’s sake, surely, it's not a big deal that he would feel the need to cough.

He's wrong though. It is a big deal.

He sees them at the same time it happens.

Standing at the end of the hall, is a horde of riders.

Covered in blood in the palm of his hand is a flower petal.

And honestly, he doesn’t know which one is worse, but he does know he needs to act fast.

Liam squares his shoulders, his eyes turn gold, and he growls.

Theo absolutely panics, runs and presses the elevator button, and wheezes.

He grabs Liam from behind, throwing him into the elevator.

“What are you doing?!” Liam demands from his spot on the floor. His body language and his eyes show his surprise, and Theo would say he feels just as surprised by his actions, but the crushed petal in his hand says he shouldn’t be.

“Being the bait.”

.

.

.

He’s a little worse for wear the next time he sees Liam, but the instant relief and the instant choking feeling show up at the same time.

He hates that it gets worse when he rides off like an idiot on a horse he doesn’t even know how to ride.

.

.

.

He suffers alone for a while.

Then Parrish happens.

The knocks just barely come through his nightmare. They are so much softer than what he is used to, so he is able to ignore it at first, but then the knocks become more insistent.

_Knock knock knock._

Theo groans, which is the wrong thing to do, apparently, because he immediately goes into a coughing fit. He turns over on his side and continues to cough. He tries to cough into his hand but petals still stain his plain white tee.

Parrish continues to knock. This time, more urgent.

“Theo, open up! Or at least unlock the door!” He can hear jingle of his door handle. Parrish could easily yank it off and pull the door open, but he doesn’t, and he won’t. The coughing doesn’t last long—less than twenty seconds; it isn’t that bad yet, but it was bad enough for Parrish to worry. He takes in a shaky breath.

“Theo, I swear to god, if you don’t open up right--“ Theo interrupts Parrish, distracting him by going to turn the car on.

“Theo, I said open the fucking door.” Parrish demands, the door handle creaking under his strength. Theo lets out a frustrated sigh, throwing his head back in frustration as he rolls down the window to talk to the deputy.

“I get it. I get it. I’m leaving,” Theo grumbles, not looking him the eye, reaching for the gear shift to throw the car in drive.

“No, not yet,” Parrish says, putting a hand on Theo’s shoulder, causing him to flinch. He turns Theo’s body so that his chest is facing him. There’s worry in his eyes and the corners of his mouth are turned down in a frown, which is funny to Theo, as he never thought anyone, especially the hellhound would be worried about him. The chemosignals don’t lie, though. The concern is coming off of him in waves.

“Theo… Theo, this blood… these petals… have you talked to someone about this?” he asks, hand reaching out to grab one before stopping himself.

“Oh, yeah. With my current employment and housing situation, I am definitely financially stable enough to go to a doctor. A doctor, who mind you, will be completely baffled by my _supernatural disease”_ he spits, sparing him a glare before moving his shoulder to forcefully shake him off. He turns his body so he is facing the windshield again.

“I’m serious, Theo. This is very serious, and you could die if you don’t get this treated or resolved.” Parrish sounds annoyed, but there is still a hint of worry in the air.

“You think I don’t know that?” And it’s not a yell, but the volume of his voice in the quiet of the reserve is startling. Theo turns his icy glare back to the deputy. The deputy, for his part, doesn’t say anything, doesn’t flinch. He just looks ready to listen. Theo sighs. “I just… I don’t know what to do.”

“I am guessing you have tried talking to this person?” Parrish hedges, trying to avoid any outbursts.

“This is the most civil conversation I have had with anyone here in months, and you are about to tell me I need to take my homeless ass elsewhere, so what do you think?” he spits. His arms are crossed over his chest, and he tries to brush any stray petals discreetly to the ground. “I’m an evil experiment who tried to ruin this town less than a year ago. It’s one-sided for a reason,” he says with a huff, his eyes flickering over to look at Parrish out of the corner of his eye.

Parrish clears his throat.

“Have you talked to Deaton? Maybe he can help you…” Parrish trails off. It’s not something he would normally suggest to anyone. If it were anyone else, he would tell them communication is key, but Theo has a point. Despite everything after Monroe, he still was not a town favorite. Maybe he shouldn’t tell whoever it is… maybe he should…

“What?” Theo interrupted. “Get rid of it?”

“Well, it’s not ideal, but neither is dying.” And Parrish doesn’t mean to sound flippant. He is trying to be realistic, and he figures sympathy isn’t what Theo is looking for.

“No, it’s not ideal, but is it much better?” Theo scrubs his eyes and takes in a shaky breath. “I’ll… I’ll go talk to him tomorrow, okay?” He goes to throw the car into drive so that he can find a new place to sleep when he feels a hand on his shoulder again.

“No, don’t worry about moving the truck,” he sighs, reaching for his radio on his belt. “The Preserve is clear,” he says into the radio. He looks up at Theo, whose face seems to be perfectly devoid of emotion.

“Guess Raeken finally moved on,” the voice of another deputy answered back.

“Hm. Not yet. That may take him a while,” Parrish answers back. Theo gives a slight nod in response, picking at the blanket Alec left for him in the trunk. Parrish notices that, too. The lacrosse sticks that decorate the green blanket make him think it once belonged to Scott.

“Tomorrow.” Theo confirms. Parrish looks at the boy with the deep circles under his eyes. He watches as he white knuckles his pilfered blanket. His mouth is set in a grim line as he nods. 

“I’m holding you to that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I cannot stay away from flower-related things. I am writing this to distract myself, honestly. I have no idea how frequent updates will be or how long this story will be (knowing me, not long at all). I also don't proofread ever, and I wrote this at three am in 30 minutes, so. You have been warned. Fic title is from Troye Sivan. Chapter title is from Hadestown.


	2. Angel Eyes and Basketball

Theo is already waiting inside the clinic by the time Deaton arrives the next morning. The veterinarian catches his eye through the glass of the locked door. To his credit, he doesn’t startle; he just continues to unlock the door. Really, he doesn’t even look surprised to see him there.

“Good Morning Mr. Raeken,” Deaton says as he opens the blinds to the clinic. “You’re early. Scott and Liam aren’t supposed to be here until nine.”

Theo squints against the sudden sunlight, throwing his arm up to shield his eyes from the sun. Deaton somehow manages to look smug about the whole thing without his facial expression actually changing.

_Probably payback for breaking into the clinic_, Theo thinks. _Asshole_.

“I am not here on pack business,” Theo says with a huff, standing up so the sun is no longer blinding him. “I’m here because a hellhound forced me to be.” 

The change in facial expression is minute but just enough for Theo to know he’s caught the emissary’s attention.

“What errand would Deputy Parrish have sent you on that he can’t do himself?” Deaton asks, pushing through the swinging door. He stands behind the counter, and Theo is can’t tell if the barrier he put between the two of them was a conscious or unconscious decision.

_Probably the former. Not because he needs the barrier there. He wants me to know he still doesn’t trust me_. Theo swallows around the tightness in his throat. He can’t tell if the tightness is nervousness because he is about to expose his secret willingly or if it’s because his body is about to expose it whether he liked it or not.

“I’m not here for Parrish,” he says, forcing the words through the lump in his throat. “I’m here for me.” He unclenches the fists he unknowingly had clenched at his side and digs into his pocket. When he pulls out a few of the petals he grabbed from his truck on the way in, Deaton's eyebrows go up in surprise. He looks to the petals in Theo’s hand to Theo’s face. He doesn’t need to take a closer look; he knows exactly what they are. He's just surprised who they came from.

Deaton doesn’t respond, or at least, he doesn’t respond verbally. Instead he just opens the swinging door wide, inviting Theo to follow him into the back room, which Theo quickly does. The usual pack meeting room has is at the end of the hall, cluttered with supernatural paraphernalia, and protected by runes. Theo's been in the room before, but the metal table in the middle always gives him a start. Theo has to look anywhere but the metal table when Deaton casually leans against.

_One trauma at a time,_ Theo thinks to himself.

“Does he know?” Deaton asks, sending an additional shock through Theo’s system. This was obviously not the first question he expected to get from him, and he didn't think he was _that _obvious either. 

“Does who know?” Theo asks, feigning ignorance. Deaton just stares back at him, clearly unimpressed by his evasion. “Scott? He’s not my alpha and the rest of them have made it pretty clear that I’m not pack, so I don’t have to update him any time something happ—"

“I was actually referring to Mr. Dunbar, as I thought he was the object of your affections.” Mr. Deaton interrupts, his mouth in a thin line. “I must have misread your feelings towards Mr. McCall.”

Theo crosses his arms across his chest in a way he hopes looks more intimidating and less defensive.

“I’ll take your silence as a no,” he says, leveling him with a stare. Theo huffs again. “If you’ve not told him—"

“I don’t need to tell him,” Theo says abruptly, affectively cutting Deaton off. “I already know his answer,” he says, looking down at the petal he has between his pointer finger and his thumb.

“Just because it’s called the 'unrequited disease' doesn’t necessarily mean it is,” Deaton points out. “You could have built this up in your head to be something worse than it is. You can’t know for a fact unless you tell him the tr—”

“He knows,” Theo interrupts again, his jaw clenching between sentences. “How could he not?” His throat itched thinking about him. His lungs felt constricted again.

Deaton hums, pushing off the table to go root through his drawers.

“I would appreciate it if you stopped interrupting me,” Deaton says as he lines several small glass bottles across the counter.

Theo stays silent, watching as the doctor removed vials from the cabinets below.

“Now, you know your options,” Deaton says, briefly glancing at Theo over his shoulder. “And you’ve come to me because you know I can help you with two of those.”

_Two_? Theo thinks to himself before seeing the vials of elixirs and pain relief Deaton is combining.

“Is combining all of those safe?” Theo asks before he can stop himself. Deaton hums again.

“In small doses,” he responds. “I’ll help slow the process, I’ll help stifle the pain, but I will not help you die,” he says catching his eyes, not breaking eye contact. “I won’t.”

With that, he turns his back to Theo again, going back to his mixing. Theo hadn't even considered asking Deaton for help in that regard. His body was taking care of that aspect on its own. The anger Theo feels flowing through him at the assumption, at the finality of the words makes him feel vindictive, makes him pull out the blackmail material he’s been sitting on since before the Dread Doctors.

“Trying to pretend you don’t already have more blood on your hands than me and Monroe combined?” Theo says with a snarl.

Deaton, for his part, barely reacts. The only indication that the words got to the man was the slight tick of his shoulder. Unfortunately for him, Theo saw it.

“How would Scott feel if he knew your past? If he knew who he really was taking advice from?” Theo asks with a smirk, thinking he has the man.

“I will not be threatened, Mr. Raeken,” Deaton says, his voice volume unchanged, but there seems to be a new hardness to the quality of it. He turns around, his arms crossed over his chest, his stare more unsettling than usual. “I’ve given you your options. It’s up to you to decide.” 

“You didn’t give me any options! You told me to tell him and that dying was not an option!” Theo exclaims.

“It would do you well to lower the volume of your voice,” Deaton states calmly. Theo opens his mouth to retort, but the sudden chime of the bell above the front door signals someone’s presence. He doesn’t even need to look at the clock to know its nine and that the previously mentioned pack members are here for their scheduled meeting.

_Liam and Scott_.

“One of your options just walked in,” Deaton surmises. Theo panics, glaring at the doctor to drop the subject. He listens for any indication that the two in the lobby heard him, but instead hears their continued conversation about college. The pressure in his chest begins to build, and that familiar metallic taste is back in his mouth.

“And if that option really isn’t an option?” Theo forces out, trying to keep the cough at bay.

“Then, I will perform the surgery,” he says with a slight nod. “I would need to go gather the right materials. I haven’t done this since—” he trails off, but he knows Theo knows. Theo nods, and Deaton decides not to elaborate. “But if it comes to that, I will do it.”

Theo figures it won’t come to telling Liam or to the surgery, but nods.

“Thank you,” he says, his thank you only sounding somewhat forced.

And Deaton doesn’t say, _my motives aren’t completely altruistic._

He doesn’t say, _I don’t want more blood on my hands_.

He doesn’t say, _there are some thing Scott doesn’t need to know about me_.

He only says, “you’re welcome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been close to seven months since I updated this. I am currently trying to write something else, so I decided to procrastinate by updating this. I edited some of the first chapter (still not happy with it honestly, but I am not trying to start the whole chapter from scratch), so you will see some slight differences. I have like three different directions I am thinking about having this go in, but I am playing it by ear at the moment. I'll try to be on more of a monthly basis now and not a half a year/when I am feeling particularly manic basis.
> 
> Chapter title from Foot Ox.


End file.
